The Art of Losing
by roxierocks
Summary: Carter has a new life. Abby has her own. But when he comes back from the Congo for a few months things aren't exactly as he expected. In fact, they're very different. Because he discovers something that changes his outlook on everything. Especially Abby.
1. Singled Out, Now I Stand Alone

Disc: don't own it

A/n: I've never written ER before, but after watching the christmas episode in season ten, this idea just hit me. I haven't seen all of season ten yet, so it might be a bit AU (in fact, I know bits of it are) and I'm going to be jumping back and forth between times and dates and stuff a lot, hence the subtitles. I have no idea where this story is going, or how often I'll update, or if I'll even keep the title I've chosen, but there you go. Hope you enjoy it!

But nothing seems to feel alright, I don't want your sympathy, I just need a little therapy. At least that's what they say to me. – The Art of Losing, American Hifi.

August 3rd, 2003. Chicago.

The streetlight slipped through a gap in the curtains, illuminating a strip of the dark bedroom. In the bed, the girl didn't sleep. Her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, the faint orange glow reflecting in their glassy surface. The voice was in her head again.

"You have to be honest with him. He has a right to know." Be honest She sighed, pushing the quilt back, exposing her skin to a wave of stuffy summer air, padding from the dark bedroom to the living room, where a paper and pen already lay on the table, discarded after earlier efforts. It was time to be honest. She began to write. 

*

January 15th, 2004. The Congo.

       

John Carter sat back on his heels, wiping a hand across his sweat-laden forehead.

Man, it was hot. But then it was always hot in Africa, even during the rainy season the air was heavy, steamy. Hot.

He carelessly pushed another shirt into his bag with one hand, reaching for a book with the other.

Was he doing the right thing?

_It's not like you have a choice,_ he told himself firmly. He had to go. Besides, it would only be for a few months. Not forever.

Part of him wished it was.

"Aren't you ready yet?"

The woman leant against the doorpost, surveying his things with a critical eye, a small smile playing around her lips.

Kem.

His own smile was involuntary; she had that sort of affect on him. She stepped into the room, shaking her head, dark hair swaying gently round her face, trying to look stern.

"We really have to go," she said.

"I know," he agreed, pulling closed the zipper on his bag. He stood up, glancing round the room

"There's something I have to do first."

"What?" she asked, taking a step towards him.

 "This." In a sudden movement, he grabbed her, drawing her close, kissing her gently. She laughed, pulling away, rolling her eyes.

"Now we've got that out of the way, can we go? We're going to miss the flight."

He kissed her again. "We can get another one."

"No," she replied firmly, extracting herself from his arms. "We can't. Come on."

He sighed and picked up his bag. "I suppose you're right."

"Of course I'm right," she said, taking his hand in hers. "I'm always right."

At the door he stopped for a second, looking across their bedroom. For a moment he felt a sort of…wistfulness fill him.

He shook his head.

What was wrong with him? He would be back soon. After all, there was nothing to keep him in Chicago. Not any more.

*

January 21st, 2004. Chicago. 11am.    

Open. Close. Open. Close. Open. Close.

Abby wondered exactly how long she could continue to stare at the doors.

Open. Close.

Maybe she didn't have to go in. Maybe no one would notice she hadn't turned up. Maybe-

"You going in?"

"Thinking about it," she replied, glancing briefly at the speaker. He chuckled.

"Dr. Pratt?" a voice called across the ambulance bay. Abby watched a woman run towards them. A nurse? "There's a call for you on line three. They said it's urgent. Leyton's? Something about a missed delivery?"

Pratt swore. "I told them a thousand times. Call first. Call first! Later Abby."

He ran toward the emergency doors.

Open. Close. Open. Close.

She sighed. She might as well go in now. Pratt had seen her, she couldn't just go home.

Eat the bullet, or whatever that expression was.

The noise, the chaos, the suffocation hit her like a tidal wave. She immediately wished she had stayed the other side of the doors.

She waded through the injured that were waiting, keying her number into the security pad on the triage doors, stepping inside.

And here she was again.

"Abby!" a voice cried out excitedly. "You're back!"

"Yep" she replied dryly. "I'm back."

"And I'm so glad!" The voice had a body to go with it: Neela.

Abby smiled, a genuine smile, she realised. "Thanks Neela."

"It's been murder here," the English girl commented, as she dumped an armful of charts into the post treatment slots. "Today is manic." She surveyed Abby critically. "Are you sure you should be here?"

"I've missed enough as it is," Abby replied. "Anymore will put my training in jeopardy, and we all know I'm bad enough already."

"You're a good doctor," Neela protested.

"Yeah, yeah. " Abby waved her hand impatiently. "Is Susan here today?"

"Exam four. Puncture would to the left inner thigh."

"Ouch," Abby felt a brief flash of sympathy for the patient. "Well, I'd better go get ready."

"Okay, I'll see you- Mr Collins! Don't eat that!" Neela cried, running down the hall toward a patient.

Abby walked slowly toward the staff room, where she shoved her coat and scarf into her locker, retrieving the white coat and stethoscope that hung there. 

It felt weird, being back. Weirder than she thought it would.

_I guess I'll just have to get used to it._

She stepped out of the staff room.

"Abby, you're back. Good. There's a broken collar bone in exam two, can you look at it, arrange for him to be taken up to x-ray?"

"Oh hi Abby. You couldn't take this patient for me, could you? Thanks, I'm on a break."

"Abby! Perfect cases for you. Sprained ankle in five. Mysterious breathing problem in eight. Little girl swallowed a coin in one."

Abby stared at the pile of charts in her arms.

Yep, definitely have to get used to it.

*

"OUCH!"

"Sir if you would just stay sti-"

"IT BLOODY HURTS!"      

Susan Lewis gritted her teeth. 

"I know it hurts," she said. "There is a screwdriver in your thigh. If you would just stay still and let me examine you then we can give you something for the pain."

She reached cautiously toward the offending tool, but the guy howled and jerked away from her.

"Oh for heaven's sake," she snapped. "I didn't even touch you that time."

"I could imagine what it would feel like," he replied petulantly.

Susan clenched her hand into a fist.

"Jason- it is Jason isn't it?"

Jason nodded. 

She took a deep breath. "Jason, if you don't let me examine you, you'll have to go home with that thing in your leg, and then -who knows- you might bleed to death. Do you want to die Jason?"

Jason shook his head, looking satisfyingly scared.

"Then let me examine you."

She carefully felt the inflamed skin around the screwdriver, checking the depth of the wound, ignoring the shriek that Jason emitted.

"Okay," she pulled back, snapping off her rubber gloves. "Give him ten of morphine. Should need about five stitches." She glared at Jason. "You're lucky it didn't pierce a blood vessel. Next time you and your girlfriend have a fight, keep the DIY out of it, okay?"

Without waiting for a reply, she stepped out of the cubicle, pulling the curtains closed behind her.

What a day.

She glanced around for any sign of Abby, wasn't her first shift supposed to start about now?

"Hey Susan, could you look at this for me?"

She raised her eyebrows slightly. "Finally off the phone, Pratt?

Pratt grinned. "What can I say? I love to talk."

She rolled her eyes, reaching for the chart in his hand.

"Where are her bloods?"

"They haven't come back yet," he replied.

"How long ago did you send for them?"

"About an hour ago. Do you know what's taking them so long?"

She shrugged. "Probably a backlog of work. Try calling them."

"Thanks." He took the chart back and moved down the hall.

Susan glanced at her watch. Surely it must be time for lunch? Nowhere near. Damn.

Glancing up, she caught sight of a familiar figure, recognition rushing through her.

"Abby!"

Abby stopped mid stride, arms full of charts, looking suitably harassed.

"Hey," she said, as Susan started towards her. 

"Good to be back?" Susan asked with a slight grin.

"Thrilled," Abby replied, shifting her charts.

Susan took a step closer. 

"Are you alright?" she asked.

A flicker of annoyance crossed Abby's face, but it was gone so quickly Susan wondered if she'd imagined it.

"I'm fine," Abby said. "Just trying to get back into the feel of things."

Susan nodded. "What time do you finish?"

"Eight."

"I'm seven thirty. Do you want to grab something to eat?"

Indecision clouded Abby's face.

"I'm not sure, I should get back-"

"I know you don't have to be back until nine," Susan interrupted. "Come on. I feel like I haven't seen you for months. It would be nice."

Abby hesitated a moment longer.

"Please?"

She sighed. "Okay," she agreed. "But I can't be back later than nine, okay?"

Susan grinned. "Sure thing."

She turned and they began walking towards triage.

"Listen, I wanted to ask you, do you need any-"

She broke off as Abby suddenly stopped.

"Abby, are you okay?"

But Abby's eyes weren't on her, and following her sightline Susan understood why.

Standing in triage was John Carter.

*


	2. But Nothing Seems To Feel Alright

A/n: wow, I'm overwhelmed by the reviews I received for chapter one! Thanks so much, you all inspired me to write chapter two really quickly. I'm chopping and changing between the locations and time a lot more in this chapter, so it might be a bit confusing, just make sure you read the subtitles. Sometimes ff.net won't form italics properly, so if you see something in this buenede it's meant to be italics. I'm not revealing the parings yet, as it would give away all the suspense, but it will have a lot of Abby and Carter in it, though not necessary as a couple. Hope it's not too confusing, and that you enjoy it. Oh yeah, and I've put the rating up for a small swear word, there'll prob be more in future chapters.   

Grrrrrr! Just had to go back and reformat everything. What's up with this site?? Sorry if the formatting's a bit dodgy!

August 23rd, 2003. Chicago.

I don't know how you're going to react when you read this letter. You'll probably think it's cowardly of me not to tell you in person, but how can I, after everything we've been through? You'd probably say that the reason I can is because of everything we've been through. I guess that's one of the things that make us so different.

*

January 21st, 2004. Chicago. 8.30pm.

"How could he do this to me? How?"

"Abby calm down."

"I will not calm down!"

"You're creating a scene," Susan hissed.

Abby glanced around the diner, embarrassed to admit her friend was right. People were staring.

"Sorry," she muttered, poking her fork into the dejected looking hamburger on her plate.

"Don't apologise," Susan admonished. "If Carter had treated me the way he treated you, I'd be making a scene too."

Abby suddenly felt the overwhelming burn of tears in her throat. God, she couldn't break down now.

Susan peered closely at her. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," she muttered. "Except I suddenly need a cigarette."

"Don't even think about it," Susan replied. "You know how bad they are for you, not to mention those around you."

"Yeah, yeah," Abby snapped grumpily. She sighed. "Everything's just taking longer to get used than I thought."

Susan frowned. "You still having problems?"

"Not really. It's just being back at work, seeing Carter, not to mention his girlfriend. It's a bit…much."

"I can't agree more. You know what you need?"

Abby peered at her friend. "What?"

Susan grinned. "Chocolate fudge sundae."

Despite herself, Abby laughed. "I would love a chocolate fudge sundae, but I really have to be getting back."

"Oh no, not yet. We've hardly had a chance to talk."

"I know, but it's eight thirty."

"You don't have to be back till nine."

Abby shrugged slightly. "I don't want to keep Amelia waiting."

"That's what you pay her for!" Susan protested.

But Abby was already pulling on her coat. "I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow okay?"

"Okay, but now I'm going to have to eat that sundae all by myself."

"I'm sure you'll manage."

Susan laughed, and Abby quickly excited the diner, keeping her head low in the January cold. 

She felt so lost. And angry.

How could carter just reappear like that? Expect her to be friendly to him? After what he'd done?   

She sighed, her breath steaming in the air infront of her.

She'd spent months, so many months hating him. Blaming him. Wishing he'd stayed. Hoping he'd never come back. And now here he was. 

And she wasn't prepared. She wasn't prepared at all.

*

January 21st, 2004. Chicago. 11.30am.

For a split second time seemed to physically stop.

It couldn't be possible. John carter could not be standing in triage.

But he was, and he was staring directly at her.

Abby was aware of Susan beside her, tailing off mid sentence, but Abby could only watch. Watch, as Susan launched herself at him, hugging him tightly. Watch as Pratt appeared, shaking hands, laughing. Watch as Kerry blinked in shock, then berated him for leaving.

She could barely take her eyes off him.

And when she did, she noticed the woman beside him.

*

January 21st, 2004. Chicago. 11am.

"What if they don't like me?"

Carter resisted a strong urge to roll his eyes.

"They will like you," he replied, exactly as he had the other seven times she'd asked.

"But what if they don't?"

He stopped, facing her and putting his hands on her shoulders.

"Kem, what's going on? I've never seen you like this. Usually you're so confident, but today you seem…well, not."

"I'm just nervous," she replied quickly.

Carter raised an eyebrow.

"Well I am! This is a part of your life I've ever seen before. It'll be different. Very different."

He took her hand, and they made their way down the steps, toward the subway platform.

"Don't worry about a thing," he assured. "Everything'll be perfect."

She nodded. "Are you going to tell them our news?" she asked, pressing her free hand against her stomach.

"Of course," he grinned. "I can't wait!"

He didn't the way Kem bit her lip, or the uncertainty in her eyes.

*

August 23rd, 2003. Chicago.

This isn't easy for me, though I doubt I will be easy for you either. I don't know what to do. I need you to tell me.

_But no, that isn't fair, is it?_

_Because I doubt you want this either. But here it is. So we have to make a decision._

_And I think I already know what mine will be._

*

January 21st, 2004. Chicago. 11.30am.

The first thing Carter saw was Abby. And it hit him like a jolt.

They stared at each other, and for a moment he had a desperate urge to throw his arms around her, hold her close, breathe in her smell. But then Susan was there, and Pratt, and everyone else. Except Abby.

She was still staring at him, looking as though she'd seen a ghost.

Then she looked at Kem.

For a split second he actually felt a frisson of dread, but pushed it firmly aside. Now was not the time.

"Everybody", he said. "I'd like to introduce you all to Kem. We're, um, going to have a baby."

He saw Abby stiffen.

"A baby?" repeated Susan, looking as though she'd been hit over the head. "Wow, that's well, wow…" She trailed off, looking uncertainly in Abby's direction.

In fact, everyone seemed to be looking at Abby.

The phone rang.

Carter was vaguely aware of Frank picking it up, but his eyes were glued on Abby. She was looking straight back at him, something burning in her gaze.

"Abby? It's Amelia."

Carter saw a flash of worry on her face. She turned to Frank, who was holding the receiver out to her. Carter noticed Susan watching her closely.

What was going on?

Abby took the phone. Carter tried hard not to look as if he was listening.

"Is everything okay?" he heard Abby ask.

"Carter?"

Carter turned, startled, and found himself face to face with Luka.

"Luka?" 

Before the other man could respond, Carter enveloped him in a huge hug.

He didn't notice the disbelieving looks the ER staff shared.

"You look so well!" Carter cried, pulling back to get a proper look at him. "I can't believe it!"

Luka laughed slightly. "Well, it has been months." 

"Months," repeated Carter, shaking his head slightly. "Have I really been gone that long?"

"Yes," said a voice behind him. "You have."

Abby.

She looked different, he realised suddenly, but wasn't sure why. It took him a moment to figure it out, it looked so natural on her. The white coat.

"Are you a doctor now?" he asked, disbelievingly.

"In training," she replied shortly, looking past him. "Luka. Have you heard Carter's news?" She didn't wait for him to reply. "He's going to have a baby."

Carter saw Luka's eyes widen slightly.

"Not by myself," Carter joked hastily. "This is Kem. We met in Africa. Kem, this is Doctor Kovac."

"The priest, right?" she asked, stepping forwards, and accepting his proffered hand.

At Luka's look of confusion, she smiled. "I've been told all about you."

"Luka, can I have a word? It's important."

Luka turned to Abby, and Carter saw something pass between them, though he wasn't sure what.

"Of course," Luka said quickly. "Carter, great to see you again. Kem, nice to meet you."

They turned and walked away.

"So Carter," Susan said. "Tell me all about life in the Congo."

"In a minute," he replied. "First, tell me what's going on with Abby."

To his surprise, she narrowed her eyes and shook her head slightly. "What's going on?" she repeated. "God, you really are too much sometimes. Leave Abby alone, Carter, she's been through enough." 

She stormed off, leaving him thoroughly confused.

*

November 3rd, 2003. The Congo.   

Kem stared blankly into the mirror.

No, it couldn't be. She had to have made a mistake. This couldn't happen. Not to her.

Shit. She was in so much trouble.

She leaned forward, studying her face carefully. She didn't look any different, and she certainly didn't feel any different. 

But she was different. She was…

She couldn't even bring herself to say it.

And with him.

What the hell was he supposed to do? 

There was a movement behind her, warm lips against her neck.

Carter.

She turned to look at him.

"I think I'm pregnant."

*

January 21st, 2004. Chicago. 11.45am.

Carter stared, puzzled, after Susan. What the hell was going on? What had happened to Abby? And why was everyone acting like it was _his_ fault?

"Hey."

He turned to Kem beside him.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeh," he muttered.

She raised her eyebrows. "You sure?"

He nodded. "I have to be at the solicitors by three. What do you wanna do? You can stay here, or look around the city, or go back home."

"I think I'll head home, I'm feeling pretty tired."

He automatically reached for her. "Is everything okay?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's fine. I'm not made of glass, you know."

He smiled. "Sorry."

"I like your friends," she said, gesturing to the bustling triage area. "They were all really nice to me."

"Well, we'll probably be hanging out here quite a lot while in Chicago." He looked at her closely. "That is okay, right?"

She smiled. "Of course it's okay."

 Carter was about to reply, when he spotted Luka emerging from the hallway. "I'll be right back. Hey Luka!"

Luka turned, smiling when he saw Carter. "Hey."

"I was wondering…" Carter hesitated, glancing sideways to make sure Susan wasn't close by. "What's going on with Abby?"

Luka's eyes immediately went cold.

"I don't think you have the right to ask about Abby anymore, Carter. You should leave her alone. Excuse me, I have patients to attend to."

And once again, Carter was left feeling confused.

*

August 23rd, 2003. Chicago.

I can't just let it go, give it up. I think a part of me has always wanted this, and now I'm finally getting the chance. Please try and understand.

*

January 21st, 2004. Chicago. 8pm.

Abby shut the lounge door behind her, leaning heavily against it.

What a day.

"You ready to go?" Susan asked, from the couch.

Abby nodded. "Just let me get my stuff."

She could feel Susan watching her as she reached into her locker.

"Whatever, you're going to say, just say it."

"What makes you think I was going to say anything?"

"Susan, please. I can practically hear you thinking."

She heard Susan sigh. "I was just wondering if you'd spoken to Carter."

"Nope."

"Well…don't you think it might help?"

Abby slammed the locker shut.

"I don't think anything's going to help," she replied. "Carter obviously made up his mind about me when he read that letter."

"He was asking about you."

Despite herself, Abby felt her curiosity peaked.

"Really?" she asked, sliding into a chair. "What did he say?"

"He asked me what was going on with you. I told him to leave you alone."

A wave of relief mingled with disappointment flooded her. "Thanks."

"No problem," Susan replied, pushing herself up from the couch. "We'd better get going, if you have to be back by nine."

Abby nodded. "Yeah, let's go."

*

January 21st, 2004. Chicago.12.30pm.

Carter glanced around the hospital, feeling distinctly out of place. Everyone was rushing about, working. Kem had already left. 

 I don't belong here anymore, he realised, surprised by the sense of sorrow which accompanied the thought.

"Hey Frank," he called. "What time does Abby get off tonight?"

Frank narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "I'm not sure I should tell you."

"Come on Frank, please. I just want to talk to her. Try and figure things out."

Frank sighed. "Alright, but don't tell her I was the one who told you."

He looked at Carter, almost a little sadly. "She hates you, you know."

The sorrow increased. "Yes," he said softly, realising it was true. "I know." * 

January 21st, 2004. Chicago.11.50pm.

"Can I watch you perform an operation?"

"No."

"Can I watch you amputate a leg?"

"No."

"Can I help you put a tube down someone's throat?"

"Definitely not."

"What about-"

"Look, Alex, why don't you go and find your mother. I'm sure she wouldn't want you talking to me."

"No way. She's over all that now."

Luka surveyed the boy. "Are you so sure?" he asked softly.

But his words were lost on the ten year old. "I wanna see a gun wound!" he cried enthusiastically.

"Trust me, you don't."

Alex tugged on his arm. "Take my heart beat."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you're not sick."

"How do you know?"

 Luka grinned. "I'm a doctor, I know everything."

"Mom says you know nothing."

Luka chuckled slightly. "Well, your mother and I don't exactly see eye to eye."

"Duh. You hate each other."

Luka laughed outright at that. "I certainly don't hate her." He leaned close to Alex. "However I can't be sure she'd say the same about me."

Alex giggled.

"Alex!"

Luka tried not to wince as she sharp voice carried down the hall.

Sam Tyger appeared, looking the way she always looked when she saw Luka with Alex. Pissed.

"If I've told you once, I've told you a million times. Stay in the lounge. You can't just wander around the hospital."

"But mom-"

"No. Go."

When Alex didn't move, she glowered at him

"Now!"

Sam turned to Luka. "I'd appreciate it if you leave my son alone."

"He comes to me," Luka replied heatedly. "I can't just ignore him."

"Yes. You can."

She turned to go, but he put his hand on her arm, stopping her.

"Let's talk about this. I know you're still angry with me-"

"I don't want to talk about it," she snapped. "Now leave me and my son alone."

Luka stepped back, raising his hands in defeat.

"Fine," he said shortly. "If that's the way it's going to be, then fine."

She glared at him. "You think you're such a martyr."

"No," he replied calmly. "I don't. But you seem so desperate to paint me as one."

"That's not true! What you've done, what you did-"

"Had nothing to do with you. It happened before I even met you."

"But it affected me! And what's more it affected Alex."

She closed her eyes briefly, then shook her head.

"I'm sorry, but I don't want him to have anything to do with it."

"Sam-"

"No. Just…no."

*

January 21st, 2004. Chicago. 8pm.

Abby and Susan left the hospital quickly. They didn't notice that someone was following them.

*

August 23rd, 2003. Chicago.

The reasons don't seem to make sense, but then perhaps these things never do.

_Perhaps the list of negatives does outweigh the positives, but in the end I think it will be worth it. It will be worth everything._

January 21st, 2004. Chicago.11.50pm.

"I'm sorry I don't think we've met."

Carter, wondering exactly what he'd done to Abby to make Luka so cold, was brought out of his reverie by a hand appearing infront of his face.

He blinked, looking blankly at the Indian girl, wondering exactly why she was waving at him.

"I'm Neela."

Oh, a handshake.

"Um, hi. I'm John Carter." English, he realised. Not Indian.

"Yes, you used to work here, didn't you?"

"Uh, how did you know…"

"You were just leaving when I arrived. Looking for Luka's body?"

"Oh, yes, of course." He frowned. "I'm sorry, I don't remember…"

"Oh don't be, I wouldn't expect you to. Are you a friend of Abby's?"

"What?"

"Abby's," she repeated, slightly slower. "A friend?"

"I, um, yes. I was. I am."

"Oh, well you must have been really pleased then."

"I'm, sorry, what?"

"By the news," Neela replied, reaching for a chart.

"News," Carter repeated. "What-"

The emergency alarm went off suddenly. 

"Neela!" a voice yelled. "You're patient's in IVF!"

"Excuse me," Neela cried, running frantically towards a cubicle.

"Wait!" Cater called after her, but she didn't seem to hear him.

What _was _going on with Abby?

*

January 21st, 2004. Chicago. 8.45pm.

Susan smiled as she dug her spoon into the sundae.

Who cared that it was minus five outside and she was on a diet? There was always room for hot fudge.

She glanced up, surprised, as a shadow fell across the table.

"I think you'd better tell me what's happened to Abby."

*

August 23rd, 2003. Chicago.

All these doubts, all this reasoning. None of it really matters. Because I've made my decision.

I'm keeping your baby.

Love, Abby.

*

January 21st, 2004. Chicago. 9.10pm.

"Thanks for phoning me earlier. I'm relieved it was nothing serious."

Amelia smiled. "Well, I know how you worry. I thought I'd better just keep you informed."

"Thanks," Abby ran a hand across her tired eyes. "Are you sure everything's been okay."

"It's been fine."

At Abby's disbelieving look, Amelia cried "Really!"

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. It's just, all this stuff's pretty new to me." She rubbed her eyes again. "You'd better get off. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Bright and early," Amelia laughed, pulling on her coat. "Night Abby."

"Night."

Abby closed the flat door quietly, then made her way into her bedroom, tip toeing toward the wooden cot beside her bed.

Her hand reached out to touch a smooth, pale cheek, stroking the fluffy, dark hair that rested atop her daughter's head.

"Hey baby," she whispered. "How have you been today?"

She bent to kiss the tiny sleeping figure, a rush of love almost suffocating her.

Who would have known something so small could bring so much joy?

_Or so many problems,_ she reflected, thinking of the mounting pile of bills, hidden at the back of a drawer.

She jumped at a sharp knock on the door, then frowned, quickly walking into the living room and pulling the bedroom door closed behind her.

Who could be calling this late? She wondered. If it's Susan, I'll kill her, I really will.

She didn't bother to check the peephole, just opened the door, fully expecting it to be her friend.

Carter stormed in, grabbing one of her arms, his pupils dilated with anger.

"I want to see my daughter," he hissed. * August 25th, 2003. Chicago. Luka stared in confusion at the morning mail, as he recognised the handwriting on the top envelope. Why was Abby writing him a letter? * 


	3. Can't You See It's Killing Me

Thankyou for all your millions of wonderful reviews! I really am amazed at how many people like my story! Well, I know it's been a few weeks, but I finally decided to get off my lazy butt and write chapter three. I'm not following the actual ER strictly, cos some of the stuff which is happening doesn't fit in with my story, eg. Susan's pregnancy, but I doubt it'll matter much. For those of you who were a bit confused last chapter, don't worry! It was supposed to be a bit vague, all will become clear in time (namely in this chapter!). Thanks to those who said they understood the skipping back and forth in time, it was very encouraging. And to all those Carby fans: I'm not revealing the final pairing yet, but there will be heaps of Carby moments, as well as Luby and various others. Just to apologise if I get any characters last names wrong. I'm not entirely sure about the spelling of Luka or Sam's, so if anyone wants to correct it in a review, feel free! The same kind of thing with the dates, sorry if they don't add up, and I have no idea when the actual date was that Carter and Abby had THAT dinner. I hope you enjoy this chapter, the next one probably won't be out for ages, as I'm coming up to my A2 exams (kind of like finals) so I'm veeery busy. Well, I hope you like it, read and review! 

August 23rd, 2003. Chicago.

Abby carefully folded Luka's letter, and slid it into an envelope, before reaching for another piece of paper.

Now she had a second letter to write, and she had a feeling it was going to be even more difficult than the first.

Dear Carter. I have some news, but I doubt you're going to like it… 

*

February 3rd, 2003. Chicago.

"I don't know," Abby said, as she reached for her water glass. "I'm not sure people can ever really change."

Carter's fist, hidden by the table, closed around the ring box, slipping it back into his pocket.

"Perhaps you're right," he said softly. "Shall we get going?"

She glanced up, surprised. "What's the rush?"

"I just think we should go."

Before Abby had time to argue, he signalled the waiter for the bill.

Outside the restaurant, he walked quickly towards his car, aware that Abby was almost having to run to keep up with him.

"Hey," she cried. "Wait a minute will you?" She caught up to him, grabbing his arm. "What's going on?"

"Do you really think people can't change?"

She blinked slightly, startled by his question.

"I guess so."

"And what about you," he asked. "Do you think you can ever change."

For a moment she was puzzled, then comprehension dawned, closely followed by anger. 

"This is about my drinking, isn't it."

For moment he didn't respond, then sighed, looking past her. "I just don't see how it can be fixed, if you don't believe people can change."

"Fixed?" she repeated, voice dangerously low. "You think I'm broken? What, you think you can just try and put the pieces back together again?"

"That's not what I meant-"

"Then what did you mean, Carter?"

There was a brief, strained silence.

Abby shook her head slowly. "I can't believe this, I can't believe you! You just think you can fix me up. Worse than that, you think I'm broken in the first place!"

"Well, you're not willing to change," he yelled back. "How can we move on, if you don't want to?"

"I'm perfectly happy to move on, but obviously you don't want someone who isn't perfect."

Carter threw his hands up in frustration. Why couldn't she just try and see his point of view?

"Forget it," he snapped, turning to cross the street. "I can't talk to you when you're like this."

"Fine. Just walk away."

He immediately veered back to face her. "How can I do anything else?"

"You can at least try to sort this out!"

"No." he shook his head, taking a step away from her. "Not now."

He jogged to the car, refusing to looking back 

*

Abby watched as he moved away, lit by the glow of street lights, until he leapt into he car and pulled away, tyres screeching.

"Argh!" 

With a frustrated cry, she kicked out a lamppost, immediately regretting it when pain shot up her leg.

"Great," she muttered. "Now I have a bad foot and I have to walk home." She began to walk down the street. "Just perfect. First he wants to marry me, then he doesn't. Now he wants me to change. What am I supposed to Carter? Just what am I supposed to do? Who do you want me to be?"

"Abby?"

She spun, alarmed, even as she recognised who the voice belonged to.

Luka.

"Talking to yourself?" he asked gently.

She shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a regular crackpot." 

He laughed. "What are you doing out here this late?"

She sighed. "I was at dinner with Carter, but then we had a fight and he drove off. So now I'm stuck walking home."

"Well, come back to my place," Luka offered. "It's not far, then I can drive you."

Abby hesitated. All she really wanted was to have a nice warm bath. But Luka would get her there quicker.

"Come on," he urged. "We can have some coffee. Talk"

She smiled slightly. Somehow it always felt so easy, so right talking to Luka.

"Okay," she agreed. "Coffee would be great."

*

January 21st, 2004. Chicago. 9.10pm.

Abby tried to take a step back, startled fear coursing through her as memories of being attacked by Brian flitted through her mind, but Carter's grip was like iron, his face twisted beyond recognition.

"Get the hell off me," she hissed.

His hand tightened, and for one terrifying moment she thought he was going to hit her and automatically flinched. He blinked, sudden shock darting across his face, then released her, stepping back quickly, avoiding her gaze.

For a moment neither spoke, the silence thick with tension, conflict.

"My daughter," he said finally, his voice low and quiet. "I would like to see her."

It was only then that it occurred to Abby just how much of a mess she was in. _My daughter._

"Who have you been talking to?" she asked.

"Susan told me."

I am going to kill her.

Abby narrowed her eyes. "What, exactly, did she tell you?"

"That you had had a baby. A girl, called Eva."

"And?"

He gave her a slightly blank look. "And I ran over here."

Ah, that explains it.

"She didn't tell you anything else?"

"No, like I said, I came straight over here." His eyes hardened slightly. "Why didn't you tell me Abby? Do you hate me that much."

She sighed, turning away form him. "I don't hate you," she said, quietly.

"Then why?"

Okay, it's now or never. Time to tell the truth.

"Carter, there's something I have to explain."

*

January 21st, 2004. Chicago. 8.45pm.

Susan raised her eyebrows at the intrusion, annoyance flickering across her face.

"I don't have to tell you anything," she replied.

Carter sat down in the booth across from her. "It's about Abby, I have a right to know."

She slammed her spoon down in sudden anger.

"No Carter, you don't. You broke up with her, remember? Then, when she told you what was going on, you refused to speak to her."

"But I don't know what's going on."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't give me that. She wrote you a letter."

Carter threw up his hands in exasperation. "I never received any damn letter."

Susan froze, her heartbeat accelerating suddenly. "You didn't?" Her voice was faint.

"No," he snapped. "I didn't. Now will you please tell me what's going on?"

She swallowed. "I um…I really think you should talk to Abby about this."

"No," he repeated. "Tell me."

When she didn't respond, he leant forward, narrowing his eyes. "Now."

Susan stared behind him, trying to summon the words.

"It's difficult," she said.

"I'm waiting."

She sighed. "Carter, it's…well…" She closed her eyes. "Carter, Abby had a baby."

He was shocked, she could tell because he wasn't responding. Cracking open an eye, she saw his blank, uncomprehending expression, and wondered if she'd done the right thing.

"Carter?"

He shook his head, a slow, tiny movement.

"A baby?" he repeated. "A…a baby."

"She's beautiful," Susan said. "Her name's Eva. It's short for-" She was cut off as Carter stood abruptly, scraping his chair back from the table.

"I have to go."

Panic descended upon Susan like a rain cloud.

"You can't," she gasped. "You don't know the full story!"

He ignored her, striding across the diner towards the door.

"Carter!"

She leapt up, sundae forgotten, and followed him, weaving desperately around the booths.

"Carter, wait!"

"Hey!" a voice called. "You there! You haven't paid!"

Susan looked around helplessly, realising the man was talking to her. "I-" she reached into her pocket for a twenty-dollar bill and flung it toward him, then hurtled through the door, out onto the snowy street.

She was too late. Carter was gone.

Abby is going to kill me.

* 

February 3rd, 2003. Chicago.  

Luka's flat was warm and familiar, and Abby felt contented as she curled up on the well-known couch, a mug of coffee clasped in her hands.

He sat across from her on the floor, sipping from his own mug closing his eyes every now and then from the sheer exhaustion of the day.

"Do you think," he asked, "that he's afraid?"

Abby sighed. "I don't know," she replied. "Perhaps he's afraid of me." She shook her head in frustration. "I hate the way he treats me. He acts as if I've got a disease or something. I just…I hate it."

"Have you told him?"

"I've tried, but he never listens." She smiled wryly. "He always thinks he knows best."

It was getting late, and they were both on their second mug, but Abby had no desire to return to her cold, empty flat. She liked it here, she liked it with Luka. She liked feeling safe.

Luka yawned and she felt a frisson of guilt. He was obviously tired, and she was keeping him up. 

"I'd better get going," she said, though it was the last thing she felt like doing.

Was it her imagination, or did she see a flicker of disappointment cross his face?

"I suppose so," he agreed, standing, then reaching over to help her up.

He was holding her arm, their faces close, too close, and everything felt so right, and she was warm and safe, and though she knew she would regret it, she kissed him.

It was a soft, gentle kiss, a brief press of her lips against his, sweet and chaste.

For a moment they looked at each other, then they were kissing again, but this time it was desperate and passionate and full of fire and she knew it was wrong, but she just couldn't stop.

*

January 21st, 2004. Chicago. 9.10pm.

"Eva isn't yours."

Carter felt as if his world was collapsing. There was a funny rushing in his ears, and he had to reach behind him, steadying himself against the wall.

"Isn't mine?" he repeated dumbly.

"Are you alright?" Abby took a step toward him, concern on her face, though her features seemed blurred to him. "John?"

It was the use of his first name that brought him back to reality.

Abby had had a baby. That baby wasn't his.

"Whose?" he croaked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

She closed her eyes briefly before answering. "Luka's."

It felt, strangely, like a jagged pain in his heart. Luka's. Of course.

"When?"

She sighed. "Do we really have to-"

"When?" he hissed.

She avoided his gaze. "That night we had a fight outside the restaurant. About my drinking. It was February."

He felt a humourless laugh work its way up his throat. "Well that's alright then, if it was February."

"Carter…" she trailed off into silence, unsure of what to say. 

Bitterness tasted like lemons on his tongue. He remembered that night. How could he forget? That was the night he had been going to propose. He had been about to ask her to marry him and she…

"You went to him," he whispered.

"Not exactly," she replied. "We met in the street, and I was upset. He offered to give me a coffee and a ride home."

"But one thing led to another?" he asked dryly.

"Do you think I like this?" she yelled suddenly. "Do you think all of this makes me happy?"

He looked at her, amazed that she could be angry with him, that she was hurt when she was the one who…

"I expect you were ecstatic," he yelled back. "Child on the way, rich boyfriend to pay for everything, no one would ever need to know."

She stared at him, speechless, and he could see he had hurt her, but felt a need, a compulsion to go on.

"If I hadn't gone to Africa would I have ever known the truth? Would you have just pretended she was mine? Would you have even cared that Luka would never know his daughter?"

Her hand across his face stung, and he froze, head turned slightly to one side by the impact of her slap.

What the fuck was he doing?

"How dare you?" she whispered, voice tight with anger. "How dare you even suggest that I would do a thing like that?"

"Well you slept with another man," he pointed out, equally angry. "How do I know what you're capable of?"

"And I told you! I told you everything in the fucking letter and you didn't want to know. You didn't want to know!"  

"That's because I didn't know!"

She blinked. "What?"

"I never got your letter," he said, voice suddenly quiet, anger drained in an instant. "I didn't know you were pregnant, didn't know you had a child until about half an hour ago. I didn't know."

She closed here eyes and leaned back against the wall, seemingly bereft of the angry energy that had filled her only a moment ago.

"And I though you just hated me."

"I could never hate you."

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

She opened her eyes, and he could see confusion written in her gaze. He had a sudden urge to touch her, to stroke her cheek the way he used to.

"She should have been ours."

He nodded, saddened by the knowledge.

"I know."

*

January 21st, 2004. Chicago. 11.35am.

"Luka, can I have a word? It's important."

Luka nodded, noticing the worry etched into Abby's face. 

"Of course," he said quickly. "Carter, great to see you again. Kem, nice to meet you."

He turned and walked beside her a little way down the hall.

"Is everything alright?"

"Did you change Eva's diaper this morning before we left?"

He nodded, suddenly sensing he had done something wrong. 

She let out an irritated sigh. "Did you use the right powder? Because Amelia just rang, and she says Eva's got diaper rash. Diaper rash!"

Diaper rash. He laughed, probably not the best thing to do under the circumstances.

"Abby, it's okay. It's just a bit of diaper rash, it will go away in a day. There's nothing to worry about."

To his surprise, she began to cry. Abby, who never cried, or at least never let anyone see her cry.

Except that night in his apartment.

"Hey." He reached for her, pulling her into his arms, and she sobbed against his chest for a few moments.

"What's wrong with me?" she muttered, her voice muffled by his shirt.

"You're probably in shock," he replied. He stroked her back gently. "It's okay. You don't have to be superwoman all the time."

She laughed, which was a small victory to him, then pulled away. "You're right, I'm sorry. It's just with Cater coming back, and their big news and everything I-"

"It's okay," he repeated gently.

She blew out a breath, cheeks now dry.

"I'll come over this evening, okay? Check on you and Eva." 

She nodded. "Thanks."

He leant forward and kissed her briefly on the forehead. "Stay strong."

She nodded again, then walked away down the hall. He watched her go, thinking how extraordinary she really was.

It's a pity I'm not in love with her.

As he turned in the other direction, he saw a flash of curly, dark blonde hair and blue scrubs turning a quick corner.

Sam.

He had a sinking feeling she had witnessed the whole thing.

*

Sam leant against the wall, trying not to think of what she had just seen.

Luka. Kissing Abby.

_Just friends,_ she thought bitterly. _Just fucking friends._

She fought the unexpected wave of misery. She had work to do.

*

February 3rd, 2003. Chicago.  

She was crying.

Abby never cried, at least not infront of people. 

But she was crying now.

Soft, heartbreaking sobs that made Luka want to gather her into his arms and kiss the pain away.

But that was what had made her cry in the first place, wasn't it?

The sheet was slightly damp against his bare skin, he could feel Abby's body beside him, hear the late night traffic in the street outside.

Hear the quiet weeping.

He reached out a cautious hand, brushing the naked skin of her shoulder, and for a moment she stiffened, then he felt her shoulder shake with more tears and she rolled towards him, letting him hold her close.

"I love him," she whispered softly.

He tried not to feel the heaviness in his heart.

"I know."

*

January 21st, 2004. Chicago. 9.20pm.

They were startled out of their sorrowful silence by a brief knock on the door.

_Luka's knock_, Abby realised, and the dread in the pit of her stomach grew considerably.

The knock came again, followed by Luka's concerned voice, drifting through the wood of the door.

"Abby? Is everything alright?"

She saw every bone in Carter's body stiffen at the sound of Luka's voice, a stormy anger mixed with hatred plaguing his features.

"Carter-" she began, but he ignored her, yanking the door open to glare directly into Luka's face.

"Carter," Luka said in surprise.

"You bastard," Carter hissed. "You fucking bastard."

His fist flew into the other man's jaw, Luka's head snapping back against the doorframe, a thin line of blood trickling from his lower lip as he fell into the corridor.

"Luka!"

Abby ran to his side, bending over him, shaking his shoulders to make sure he was conscious. He blinked up at her blearily.

She stood, hands clenched in fists at her sides, anger barely contained.

"Get out," she snapped, voice deadly.

Carter, for his part, was beginning to look slightly contrite, but Abby couldn't have cared less. When he took a step towards her, she took one back. She didn't want to be anywhere near him right now.

He held up his hands in silent defeat. She noticed his knuckles were already beginning to bruise. He edged passed her and walked towards the stairs, pausing only briefly to look back at her. Their eyes locked.

It was all so wrong, she realised. When had it become so twisted?

She dragged her gaze away, back to Luka, still lying at her feet.

Each one of his footsteps on the stairs were like a failing in her heart.

*


End file.
